The Ritual
by Hinrich von Degenhart
Summary: The Dark Lord has successfully been resurrected. His new body is faulty and he chooses to fix that. What better way to surpass all other wizards, including Dumbledore, than to transfer certain properties from a most powerful magical creature unto himself. But he does hit a little snag. Some rather miniscule oversight turns an unsuspecting muggles' life into a nightmare. (or dream?)
1. Night I: The night of nights

**What the author would like you to consider:**

This is my first try at writing. There is no lector at the moment, so what you read is entirely mine. I would love reviews, the more honest and constructive, the better. Will also accept just praise. :-]

Any notions of me profiting economically from this story or claiming any ownership of characters not invented by me are ridiculous and shall be discarded on conception with extreme prejudice.

Many times, you, the esteemed reader, will have facts and action thrown in your face without much ado. If you miss an explanation, introduction or other examples of cognitive cushioning, consider that maybe a character might also get an explanation some time later. Or mysterious happenings might become subject to investigation, which might also be laid bare to you as characters discuss any findings. In a word (or two): Patience, please.

On another note: Alliterations are absolutely awesome. ;-)

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The first three chapters are published at once, as they all overlap in story-time and would be a bit short on their own.

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 **Night I: The night of nights**

An eerie glow surrounded the ancient monolith stones. One of the most powerful sites for magic rituals in the world once again was about to fulfil its purpose. Stonehenge seemed to subtly shift, basking in the power of the one who would take on the role of high priest tonight. His minions busily preparing the grassy place inside the circle, etching runes into the ground, carefully controlled by hooded henchmen with detailed diagrams.

A high and cold voice rang through the night. "Do not overly hasten yourselves. We have time yet. But any mistake. Will. Have. Dire. Consequences!" From afar, the robed figures seemed to still for a moment, up close, one could have seen a collective shudder running through almost every single one.

One person had remained unaffected, a woman with wild dark hair, a gaunt face twisted into a sickening mask of giddy anticipation, addressed the speaker. "My lord, everything has been prepared meticulously! We _will_ not fail tonight! Your presence will be even more glorious after this!" she said reverently.

The figure she had spoken to inclined his bald head. His skin glowing like pale scales, his eyes an unsettling crimson, only two slits where any other face would have had a nose. "Report!" he demanded in a low voice. Immediately, one of the supervisors spoke up. "We are almost done with the runework. Your skills in arithmancy are nothing less than marvellous! We will prepare the Source and the Sacrifice in about ten minutes." "Good. Ensure our success and I shall reward you for it greatly."


	2. Night II: Just some other night

Enzo peered at the clock. Stifling a huge yawn, he checked his latest changes into his local repository and decided to call it a day. He was tired of rewriting old software, it was boring because you did not have to figure anything out. All there was to do, was implement the same actions in a new programming language. "Drone work." he scoffed. Apparently he had not been quiet enough, because his co-worker raised his head with a "Hmm?" and looked at Enzo over both their desks. "'Drone work', I said. I'd rather do the best thing that can happen to an engineer: Build something new. But as the great philosopher Mick Jagger once put it: 'You can't always get what you want…'" "Amen.", the other programmer replied.

"Are you leaving?" he asked, as he saw Enzo locking his workstation and gathering his keys and wallet. "Yeah, I still have quite a lot of brain cells left that I'd like to keep, so I'll leave you to heroically suffer in solitude.", he smirked at his slightly annoyed colleague. As he left the office with a wave, the last thing he heard was a sigh followed by a muted "Today is a good day to die…"

The partial Italian quickly changed, donned his helmet and rode his bike to the small cottage he had rented about 7 km away from the town centre. His commute was also the opportunity to restock and so he stopped for groceries before getting to the more rural part of his trip. When he reached his home, already having to fumble for the lock in the dark, he had worked up quite the sweat. Quickly putting the contents of his large backpack in the fridge or the appropriate cupboard, he longed for a relaxed evening, no stinking old source code or annoying bosses with annoying meetings… Just another night of reading and blocking out the real world, coming to his senses bleary eyed, much too far into the night and with a feeling of having wasted another evening away. Such was his single life.

Before he got down too much, he decided to work out a little bit. He took his time and enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment as he successfully ignored his protesting muscles. He stood in front of the mirror in his hallway. He was almost thirty, had a desk job and a visible layer of fat over his abs. Still, he was content. 'Better than all the other guys with their chronic back pain and stand-up desks!' he thought.

He had just put his t-shirt back on, when he heard the front door click. That was odd. Had he not pulled it closed strong enough so it had not latched properly? Then he realized, that he had turned the keys, locking it, like he did _every day_ when coming home. He was living in a pretty rural setting after all and every few weeks there were stories about gangs of thieves and even robbers in the local papers.

Striding towards his front door, as soon as he had entered the hallway, he froze. There were…men…standing there, leering at him. They looked rather strange, wearing long black robes of some sort, white masks and…waving some sort of stick around? Totally caught off guard, a disbelieving "What…‽" was the only word escaping his lips before a red jet of light hit him and he collapsed like a suddenly boneless doll.

"Filthy muggle" a rough voice spat. With a lazy movement and an equally lazy incantation, Enzo's body was floating. His captors did apparently not care too much about him, as the only response to his head hitting the door frame on the way out, was a cruel smile. Then the unconscious man was moved back and forward again, deliberately having his head banged against the door frame. A mirthless chuckle was cut short as an annoyed voice shouted "For the great snakes' sake! Stop dawdling! He will have our hide if we are late! Pull yourself together, man!" With a grunt and a nod and with the cruel man grabbing Enzo tightly, the trio disappeared with sharp cracks.


	3. Night III: Night before a special day

As his wife left for her night-shift job, Harold Hoper began to tick off his mental list of tasks for tonight. His wife had been pretty miffed at having to work on the night of their anniversary, so Harold had put quite some thinking into making it up to her.

He had talked with her boss and arranged a co-worker of hers to return one day early from holiday, promising in turn to help with some paperwork with the ministry. Thank Merlin that he had at least some decent connections there. With the next day free to relax, he had then procured two doses of pepper-up-potion so they both could enjoy some time together after his wife returned from her shift. Usually, she would be exhausted, but for their anniversary, that would not do. After much haggling and trading another small favour with the maître'd, he had managed to get hold of a reservation for lunch in one of the fanciest places to eat he knew.

Now, all he had to do before his wife returned, was to clean up their small house. Which was a daunting task since he had never been adept at household charms. Usually, he successfully worked the pitiful-performance-oh-honey-let-me-get-that-before-you-break-something angle. Both were aware of this, but since he'd always show his gratitude in other, less accident-prone ways, his wife did not mind. But for their anniversary, that would definitely not do! So it was with more determination than skill, that he tackled the dishes in the sink.

After having cleaned the kitchen, he decided he had earned a break. Sitting down in his comfortable reading chair, he thought: 'Well, still plenty of time before she returns.' Casting a timed reminder charm on the little bell on the shelf next to the door, he grabbed his latest book and resumed reading. Quickly, he became engrossed in the story, and it was with a gasp, that he was pulled away from it, when a very insistent chiming rang through the sitting room. He looked at the charmed bell. Still sitting motionlessly on the shelf. Then his eyes widened. Oh for #^&$( sake!" he snarled, realizing the sound coming from his on-call alarm. " _Not tonight!_ Damn it to heck and back!"

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 **The author blathering:**

Hello dear reader! Let me express my heartfelt gratitude for hanging on. A review, however short would be appreciated.

What do you think? Are you curious about what will happen next? The next chapters of this short (~6000 words) story are mostly written and will be posted in the next few days/two weeks.


	4. Nights darkest hour

After having gone over the arithmantic equations multiple times and having his personal unspeakable triple check them, having read up on all the relevant ancient texts on black magic and being the most powerful wizard he was, the Dark Lord was quite confident in his latest endeavour. Soon, he would repair the botch job this imbecile of a servant had made out of his rebirth ritual. Of course, none of his followers knew, but this constructed body, although visually perfect, had severe flaws. He had abducted a number of barely-known but qualified people, had them examine him and then fed to Nagini to erase all tracks and traces of his shortcomings. But every single one had reported increasingly severe health issues. His body had weak internal organs and would not be able to bear physical exertion well. And within at most two years, it would fail entirely.

That was an outlook not worthy of the greatest mind since Salazar Slytherin himself, so naturally, he would fix this. Since the magnitude of the original resurrection ritual had been anything but trivial, any ritual changing his form, especially in a perpetual manner, had to be quite far up on the power ladder. And because he was such an powerful wizard, if he dare not outright think of himself as a god, he had decided to go all out. Ancient ritual magic, runes etched in ancient, powerful patterns, using ancient, almost forgotten languages and script, properly fuelling the ritual with a sacrifice and all that performed in the most powerful ritual site at his disposal.

Now that would make for a magical event for the history books! He almost regretted not being able to see the faces of the poor ministry workers watching all their detection equipment going haywire and then failing with the magical out-pour of his magnificence.

Postponing his self-admiration for the next hour, he prepared to begin. With a last look at the surface, making sure one last time, all of the three adjacent runic circles were round, complete and properly aligned in a straight line, he clapped his hands. "Bring the Source!", he demanded. While he took up his place in the circle at one end of the complex array of glowing runes, he saw a huge cage being levitated towards the centre circle. Within, two eyes watched him carefully and a low growl resonated in the chest of everyone.

The cage held a huge feline creature, easily 1.5 m tall at the shoulders, a head so large, that the nose alone would be as wide as a man's hand. Said nose was scrunched up, as beneath huge teeth were shown in an expression of intense annoyance. Another rumbling growl erupted from the wide throat and the creature started to pace. Now visible from the side was an incredibly well-muscled body with a luscious pelt patterned after a leopard. The big cat was larger than even a siberian tiger and a tangible aura of otherworldly power emanated from it. An aggressive hiss was heard and then soft chuckling from the wizard in the outer circle. "Oh no, you will not poison us, I have seen to that with a smaller ritual already. And in this cage, you are nothing but an overgrown kitten."

The greatest wizard since the noble Salazar Slytherin himself had chosen a nundu¹ as the source for his ritual. (¹ Nundus are nerfed a bit, they do not take over 100 Wizards to overcome. Also: Dealing with an adolescent one should be more manageable.) He would, very selectively, combine the physical and magical strength of this powerful dark creature, together with its ability to regenerate quickly and once and for all establish his superiority with a physical manifestation of his magical and intellectual greatness. While of course _not_ blemishing his most noble appearance.

Not to miss the precise moment in this particular night where this particular ritual would benefit the most from the alignment of the constellations and the moon, he motioned to his servants to lower the cage in the right spot. Then he demanded: "Bring the Sacrifice!" And they obeyed, levitating an unconscious human into the circle on the other side of the beast, opposite to their lord and master. He was by far the least intimidating and was awakened with a start after one of the robed figures grunted "Ennervate!" and waved his wand at him. Then ropes flew out of the wand before he could get his bearings and he fell back onto the cold grass beneath him.

"What the…Who are you? What _is_ this?", Enzo shouted. "Do not worry. Your demise will serve a glorious purpose!", someone a few metres away spat condescendingly. The still bewildered man pulled himself up into a sitting position and gasped in shock, as he saw the large cage with the seemingly even larger animal within. A strangled "What…‽" was again the only thing he could utter before the huge feline turned and looked at him warily. Totally off any beaten path, his brain responded with an absurd-sounding, friendly "Hi there…uh…big…big cat?" The cat cocked its head to one side and seemed to class him as unimportant, for it turned again and growled at the voice from the other side of the cage.

While internally feeling the slightest bit queasy, He kept up a flawless façade of superiority and said in a grave voice: "Begin!"

The hooded figures, positioned around the runic array at strategic positions, began to chant. In an eerie, hollow voice, their words seemed to ring with electrifying power, more so with each repetition. "Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!" they chanted, again and again. When the soft glow that had begun with their chanting had spread to every part of the prepared runes, the Dark Lord smiled at the first stage of a successful ritual. Then he began his own chant.

It was an old tongue, and it combined many aspects of ancient languages, having been specifically crafted for magic rituals. It made the human shiver, as his mind interpreted the foreign sounds as all sorts of sinister words. Then, he felt a tingle on himself. At the same time, the cat roared and Enzo felt his bones rattle. It sounded angry and pained. And now he glimpsed runes glowing on the cage itself, the massive iron becoming more and more see-through as he watched, while white glowing bands of ethereal runes bound the creatures limbs, slowly creeping along the extremities and moving to cover it entirely.

The Dark Lord watched with satisfaction, as the struggling nundu was completely engulfed in white runes, its body held in place firmly, all its strength no match for _his_ power. Then he changed the chant and now the pathetic human would enjoy his last moments as his Sacrifice. He already struggled, as each vanishing rope was replaced by deep blue bands of glowing runes, binding him more firmly than any steel ever could. Enzo felt a wave of panic, as he realized the unyielding bands began to restrict his breathing. Taking more and more shallow breaths, he began to feel dizzy. The last thing he witnessed, was the cat struggling in a similar predicament and the glow of the runes on he floor changing color, as the malicious voice changed its chant again.

It was precisely at the moment of Perfect Celestial Alignment, when the most powerful wizard of his era began the final chant. And it was precisely this moment, when, to his unbelieving terror, his precious ritual, his step towards true god-hood, began to fail. Spectacularly. In that moment, he felt a tremendous _pull_ on his magic. _This was not supposed to happen!_ He desperately tried to abort the ritual, already feeling power draining from him in a slow trickle, but he found himself unable to stop. As soon as he willed his mouth to stop working, he felt his entire being held in an iron grip, his jaw and vocal cords moving out of his control. He had begun and this most ancient and powerful ritual magic, using these most ancient and powerful runes, being performed at this most ancient and powerful site would see the ritual through. There was no way out.

 **Author:** A shout-out to HPMOR! *recommends it again* Also, things pick up their pace and if you are as curious as I hope you will be, do not shy back from letting me know. Authors eat reviews for breakfast, you know. And that was supposed to be the most important meal!


	5. Manure hitting something rotary…

**Author's note:** Stonehenge is actually in a bit of a sorry state compared to when it was built. I hereby do some hand-waving and tell you that in this story, it is a bit more accommodating.

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As soon, as his servants became aware of the look of sheer terror on the face of their master, they, too, tried to stop chanting. And they too found themselves unable to do so. Like a freight train having been pushed minutely over the apex of a hill, the ritual gained momentum, slowly, but steadily, and the Dark Lord realised that until it would have run its course, the ritual could not be stopped. But then, he found new hope. His spotters outside of the stone circle had seen the shocked faces of their comrades and would now activate the emergency portkeys any moment.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw them nodding to each other and, in a concerted move, tap their wands to the prepared gold coins. And as he, agonizingly slow, felt the first hints of a familiar tugging behind the place where an ordinary human would have had a navel, his hopes came crashing down. The ritual site flared _black_ for a moment and then the tugging ceased. There was no way out.

The robed figures outside the chanting group felt every hair stand on end before they where whisked away to the safe house. And none of those inside the circle came with them. "Oh bloody hell!" a small voice stated the obvious. "I'm not sure if it will be better to be around when he returns and get punished for failing or to get out of here and get punished for evading him…" Some of the figures nodded uncertainly. But as soon as the most nervous of them tried to apparate away, he found himself being thoroughly thwarted. "I do not believe we will be _able_ to leave. I think there are heavy wards on this place." Solemn faces met his discovery.

Stonehenge positively glowed with the amount of magic that was being expended and every wizard present could feel a substantial drain, as the runes covering the Dark Lord, of a ghastly orange colour, almost had him covered from head to toe. Unable to stop or do anything to halt progress, the Dark Lord himself felt increasingly bad, as his body was held by the bands of energy. As soon, as every participant in the three inner circles was covered, a tremendous surge of magic tore through every being in vicinity.

At the Ministry of Magic, in a small closet full of arcane little machines, the dark magic detectors ceased to work. Their enchantments not able to stand up to the equivalent of a magical lightning bolt, the closet became quite a bit more silent. While the devices did not get vaporized physically, they would certainly need serious repair, if they were salvageable at all.

Just one instrument, ancient and so far out of calibration that the flood of magic simply missed it for the most part, experienced a single, maximal excitation of its indicator needle before puttering on. Since the alarm charms took into account not only the measured value but also the number of responding instruments, all that was generated, was a low priority alarm, dispatched to the unlucky husband of one Theophrasta Hoper, being on call.

As the effects of magical surges declined with the quadratic distance from the epicentre, detectors in Paris did not experience nearly as much power and therefore, only a notice would be issued, to be reviewed at the leisure of the department in charge.

The ritual site was covered in flashing arcs of magic, moving between the Priest, the Source and the Sacrifice. When all of the seventeen wizards believed they were about to be die from magical exhaustion, the lightening stopped. The centre circle suddenly was empty, no trace of the huge beast to be seen. The Dark Lord and his servants barely had a moment to register that it was over, when they were suddenly drawn by an almighty force behind their navels as the portkey magic finally was free from the ritual's hold. As soon, as the party arrived at the safe house, everyone collapsed and had it not been for shallow breathing, they might have been dead.

Harold waited for a whole minute, hoping the alarm would be a test or misfire and go away on its own. It didn't. He sighed. "Of all the nights…" he grumbled. Without much enthusiasm, he shrugged on his work robes, made sure he had his wand and key and then apparated to the ministry entrance nearest to his office.

The Death Eaters were totally out of their depth. Being used to meticulous micro management, they were now on their own. As their master had commanded all of his most powerful followers to aid him in the ritual, only the lower ranks, used to just do what they were told to, remained conscious.

They were glad to find all of their comrades alive, but no-one dared approach their master. After furious debate, one man was singled out and shoved towards the prone form. With shaking hands and chattering teeth, he cast a few simple diagnostic spells. "He is alive." the man mumbled, quickly taking a few steps backward. Someone said into the silence: "Well, if we leave them lying about like that, we will certainly be made to suffer. Let's get them at least onto some stretchers!"

Harold entered his office, glanced at the violet intra-office memo and cursed again. 'Location: The Avenue, Amesbury CP, Larkhill, Wiltshire, South West England, England', it said. "Oh great! Some jokers having a lark at Stonehenge again! Just what I needed…And only a minor activation, surely not worth it.", he groused. He knew that upon arriving there, the troublemakers would most probably have vanished already. Nevertheless, he had to go out. And so he went to the nearest exit and apparated away.

Among the large stones, a single human figure laid. Around him, the grass seemed to fluctuate as runic markings, that had been glowing only a minute before, faded into nothing. By the time a lonely robed figure materialised seemingly out of thin air, it was as if nothing had ever happened. Except for some poor bloke lying in the dampening grass in the middle of the night.

"Hmph!", said Harold. Just as he had expected, no-one was around. The only thing out of place was some trampled grass and a man lying near one side of the inner ring. Had the wizard not been so very distracted, it might have come to his attention that the night was far too silent. There were no sounds at all, no birds, no bats, no bugs, not even crickets.

Alas, the man was distracted, only thinking of getting over with cleaning up this 'investigation' as quickly as possible. Deciding to not waste any more time, Harold quickly cast a simple medical diagnostic spell and was relieved, when it showed no adverse conditions. There was magical residue, but as he could not find any damage, he skipped the more complex spells for detection and classification of magical influence.

He decided to simply search for the man's address (which he found in his wallet in the right pocket of his trousers), apparate with him to the man's home and be done with all this nonsense. After looking around the ancient site to make sure there was no magical garbage left (Ogden's did not appreciate handling queries from muggles), looking at his wrist watch and sighing, he turned slightly on the spot, having taken a firm hold of the other man's hand.

He tsk'ed to himself at witnessing the open door. People were really careless these days. Or was there something more sinister going on? After finding no evidence of burglary or damage, he put the muggle on the couch and decided to forgo calling the obliviators. It would only cost him time and a simple memory block about the last two hours should suffice. After all, nothing permanent had happened, right? He locked the door from the outside and popped back home. So much for taking rest in his cleaning. Having lost almost an hour, he quickly got back to tidying up.

 **Author's notes:** You can probably guess what happened or will happen at this point. Would love to get your thoughts on it.


	6. A new perspective

Enzo began to waken. Very, very slowly, he regained consciousness, his body feeling strange and his brain the consistency of putty. Without opening his eyes, he sighed. And then his brow furrowed. That had felt odd. He became aware of the familiar smell of his living room. Not sure, what exactly it was, that felt off, he licked his nose to try and get a clearer picture.

The weird feeling of that took a moment to register, but then, his heart skipped a few beats, only to begin pounding faster. His eyes shot open, he immediately clenched them shut against the sunlight hitting them through the eastern window and he gave a pained yowl. Again, he started, what was wrong with him‽

Staying perfectly still, he concentrated on his body. After experiencing two shocks in rapid succession, his proprioception returned quickly. And as he listened into himself, he became more and more bewildered. He felt so different. He felt so big. And his limbs were not in any familiar position. Also, he was quite unsettled to feel a limb he definitely could not remember ever possessing. If he were inclined to throw out all sense of sanity, he'd guess that he had a _tail_.

Coming to the conclusion that he could not put it off forever, he slowly opened his eyes. As soon, as he caught the first glimpse of sunlight, his vision seemed to rapidly dim, until he was no longer too uncomfortable. He very quickly became uncomfortable again, when he realized that there was a shape in his lower field of vision. Carefully turning his head, the shape moved in sync. 'Bugger', he thought. 'Well, what ever crazy dream this is, I _am_ curious about what my mind has come up with.'

Looking down, he saw two very large paws enter his field of vision. Very large paws. Judging by the fur pattern, they would belong to a leopard. Only that when he twitched his right hand, the right _paw_ moved with it. OK, this was becoming stranger and stranger. He stretched both his _hands_ and both _paws_ moved outwards as well, and as soon as he extended his _fingers_ , _claws_ became visible on the toes of the paws. 'WHAAAT‽', he thought, over and over again.

He slowly but methodically began to look his body over. He seemed indeed to be a leopard. Paws, claws, fur, tail, everything fit. Since the only valid conclusion he could draw was that he was experiencing the first lucid dream in his life, he decided to go with it and enjoy the experience while it lasted. The very notion of experiencing indeed reality was so absurd, it wouldn't do to waste a single thought on it.

After getting a rough feeling for his body, he decided to get up. As he thought himself dreaming, he was not wondering at all how he could move such a foreign body with such implicitness. He carefully stood up on the soft couch and walked down to the floor. _Head first._ Wow, that had felt strange. When he looked back, he saw the tatters of his trousers and t-shirt lying there. He mentally chuckled to himself. Of course, he was larger than a typical human. When he slowly padded into the hallway, getting used to quadrupedal locomotion, he froze.

Staring back at him was a huge beast of a leopard. Without conscious thought, he bared his teeth and moved his ears back, so they laid flat against his skull. The leopard did the same. Not to back down, Enzo let loose a rumbling growl. The leopard moved at the same time. He was starting to get angry at the leopard. This was _his_ home! _No one_ had any business stalking around and tracking their scent all over the place! A more ferocious growl erupted from his broad chest, again the leopard matching his movement perfectly. Crouching down to pounce, still being mirrored by the leopard, his brain snagged on this thought. 'Mirror?', he thought. Suddenly, realizing that there _was_ no leopard in his hallway, he calmed down. His intellect took a second to tell him that he was seeing himself.

Suddenly, his eyes widened, his ears perked up and he cautiously watched the mirror. That was _him_? He slowly padded closer. Wow, he was huge. And as he turned sideways to get a first good look at his body, he became aware of how he was bulging with muscle. Wow, he _really_ was huge. Using the shoes and door as a reference, he adjusted the estimation of his size to about 1.5 m shoulder height. He knew about big cats and as far as he could remember, not even a tiger this large had ever been reported. 'Well, everything is allowed in a dream…', he thought with a smile. He gave a surprised yelp and quickly closed his muzzle. Leopards apparently were not designed to look nice, or even harmless at that, when they smiled.

He was curious about how his brain had come up with this idea. Sure, he found big cats beautiful as a motif on postcards or photographs in general, but the idea of becoming one and then having such an amazingly detailed dream about it, felt very strange. But since he had decided to enjoy the experience, he began to explore his small cottage. He was rather glad that the previous inhabitants had made sure to install proper handles on every door, as he could only imagine how frustratingly difficult it would be to turn a knob with paws.

Enzo realized that everything smelled. Absolutely everything, no matter how clean it was supposed to be. Not necessarily bad, but far more detailed than he would have imagined. He walked into the bathroom and sniffed at the sink, the floor mat, until he caught the strong smell coming off the toilet. Feeling a bit embarrassed, he quickly left for the kitchen. Since his was head high enough, the perspective was not too different, although he did not realize that he was rather heavy. Just wanting to look out of a window, as soon as he placed his hands…er, front paws on the table, he heard the wood groaning and beginning to splinter. Startled at this, he pushed himself off and dropped back down onto the floor.

As if that little scare had shaken something loose, his mind began to catch on itself. Beginning to feel a bit strange, he abandoned the exploration of his cottage in this weird dream body. Something was wrong. Sitting on his haunches without really taking notice, he began to assess his situation more thoroughly. Ignoring the foreign sensations of _being_ something other than his usual human self, some things did not quite add up. He became nervous. His left paw lifted from the floor.

Reconstructing yesterday, he recalled leaving his colleague to muddle through his tedious job alone. He had ridden his bike home, shopping on the way. Then he had put away the groceries and then…well then he would have had to have done _something_ , since having ceased to exist for a few hours entirely would be most unlikely. But where the hell was his recollection of the evening? He could, for example, not remember even sitting down, especially on the couch. Enzo spent most evenings with books in an armchair after all. He felt increasingly uneasy. He never had had any blackout. He did not drink or take any other drugs at all (if one did not count caffeine).

Suddenly, he realized what was happening. He had become more and more agitated. But every few moments the feeling would lessen. And it suddenly occurred to him how that came to be. Every time he had felt slightly more at ease, he had licked his left paw. Occasionally, he had then rubbed the wet fur on the inside over his head. He had…begun to _wash_ himself! Mentally staggering back from this realization, he absently recalled that cleaning was sometimes a stress-induced behaviour. Humans did it, picking noses, smoothing hair, flattening creases. Cats did it also. _He_ had done it!

 **Authors note:** Real life has proven itself as being distracting, thus the delay. Were your expectations from the previous chapter met?


	7. Interruption

Harold was in quite a good mood. His wife had returned to find a cleaned household, a smartly dressed husband, a vial of Pepper-Up potion and promises of a well-arranged anniversary day. She had hugged him tightly and promised to freshen up quickly. So far, the day held promise. But bliss lasted only until a chiming announced an incoming floo call.

"Harold! Harold!" This bode ill. It was his free anniversary day. And his boss _knew_. With a sinking feeling, he went to the fireplace and saw indeed the incandescent face of his superior. And at the nervous look on said face, he grimaced involuntarily. "Hello Jonas, what is it?"

"Erh, well you, you best come into the office. Listen, I'm sorry, but…eh, you see, something big apparently happened last night and Bones herself is breathing down my neck, so" - "Yes I am indeed! Tell him to hurry!", came a curt interjection from beyond Jonas - "Ah, you see, there's quite the furore here. I _am_ sorry!"

With a deep sigh, Harold had promised to get into the office as quick as possible. He knocked on the bathroom door after steeling himself. "Honey, please forgive me. But something came up, Jonas needs me at the office immediately. Apparently something has some higher-ups running in circles and it seems to be some sort of emergency."

The door opened. "Oh Harold!" He almost couldn't stand the disappointment in her face. "You had such great plans for today! Why do they have to do this?", she said with an accusatory tone and a matching pout. "Oh Thea, please not that look, I'll get in trouble. Look, I'm _so_ sorry, but I have to go right now. Even the head of the DMLE herself is involved…"

"Well, I want it to be understood that she is to let you return as soon as possible. And so help me if it isn't _really_ important! I'll ruin _her_ day alright!", Theophrasta groused. Apologizing profusely, Harold promised to make it as quick as he could. It was not like he _didn't_ want to get their anniversary day back on track, was it?

A last sigh was heard when he stepped into the hearth. On the way back into the living room, the _small matter_ he had brushed aside in the night had begun to make him feel uneasy. What, if there were something more to it and his cursory inspection and assessment had caused harm to the muggle after all? But on the other hand, why had no one told him what all this fuss was about? They had only insisted that it was urgent.

* * *

A man revered by many as the greatest wizard alive entered his office with a cup of tea. He walked to his large desk, greeting his familiar on the way with a little hum and a few strokes over the chest of the creature. He sat down with a ceremonious movement that spoke of many decades of routine. With gusto, he took a sip of his tea.

He listened to his many arcane devices, the little machines on the small tables with the spindly legs. He could picture the puffs of coloured smoke, the glinting of the moving parts and also the familiar tinkling, chiming and soft hooting. In a low voice, he accompanied the devices: "Beep. Tick. Whirr. Ding. Poot." His serene expression still mostly in place, his brow furrowed. Something was off.

The Poot. It was missing. How curious. The old man stood and inclined his head with closed eyes. He listened again. And again no Poot. And also, the Ding had a different nuance to it. Suddenly worried, he walked over to one of the tables. And as he looked at the stillness and damaged appearance of some of the devices, his eyebrows rose higher and higher. Something was indeed amiss.

Routinely, his gaze settled on one of the most important devices. It still indicated that the possible saviour of the wizarding world was still quite alive and at least not in worse condition than the day before. The same for the wards on said persons home.

The device having sustained the most damage was a sensitive detector for dark rituals. He had imagined it would alert him to any future rituals Voldemort might perform, like the resurrection procedure he had undertaken months ago. The Headmaster had chided himself bitterly on not thinking of such an early warning system sooner.

For this magnificent magical machine to be destroyed so thoroughly, the ritual would have had to have been very powerful. All the other devices should not have reacted as severe, but magic being done at such magnitude might as well have caused the damage observed. If a ritual on such a scale had indeed taken place, it bode ill.

Suddenly beginning to sweat lightly, he conjured a patronus and sent it to one of his most trusted and knowledgeable people in the ministry. Immediately afterwards, he began to jot down notes on a piece of parchment for the deputy headmistress. "Fawkes.", he said, as he finished the last sentence. "I know you are rather close to your burning day, but can you take me to the ministry once more? I do hope it still exists…"

A decidedly unenthusiastic "Caw." indicated the phoenix' assent. With a loving and grateful smile, the old wizard walked towards the dreary looking bird. Before he had reached his familiar, a knock on his office's door was followed by the entrance of a sallow man dressed in black, his flapping robes making for a vaguely bat-like appearance.

"Severus?", the headmaster greeted the other man with a raised eyebrow. The other man answered in a clipped manner: "You know of the meeting between me and certain associates of the Dark Lord. Something must have happened last night. Firstly, I was stood up and the usual communication channels remained…deadly silent. Second: Following up, I reached none of my high-ranking contacts. I then proceeded to get hold of a new recruit that told me of a rumour. He indicated a ritual having been scheduled for last night. He knew neither the location nor where everyone else was, useless yob he is."

"Ah. Most ominous indeed. If you will observe the damage yourself" - the older man waved towards the spindly-legged table with the damaged device - "it does seem a ritual took place. And one quite grand, I would speculate. Alas, we shall have to investigate and draw our conclusions. I have enquired the state of things of Kingsley. I was about to leave for the ministry to asses the situation myself." The other man nodded absently while inspecting the ruined ritual detector.

"Keep your ears open for any details on tonight's events. I have left instructions for Minerva on my desk. See that she receives them. Tell her to ignore the second paragraph." Another nod. Satisfied, the headmaster began to walk towards his phoenix once more. Before he had reached his familiar, a ghostly lynx alighted on the floor to his immediate right.

It spoke in a grave and slightly booming voice. "I had to fake a restroom break to answer you. There is quite the commotion at Amelia's office. Apparently most of the dark detectors stopped working and the wizard on call botched investigating it. He has been summoned and is expected momentarily. There is a memo from last night indicating Stonehenge as the location for a burst of magic. You might want to drop by completely coincidentally in the very next moments…!"

"Well, I would not want to make you wait.", the Headmaster spoke towards the place where the spectral cat dissolved into nothingness. With a benign smile, he looked at the phoenix. "Come Fawkes, think of the long rest you will get after this last exertion." "…Caw.", the bird answered, looking slightly exasperated. In a flash of flame, both vanished from the ornate office.

 **Authors note:** Well, real life prevented me from updating. I am also unsure as to the course of this story. There is more than one way events _could_ unfold, the question is how they _should_ unfold.

I have the conclusion mapped out in my head, but from now on, there no longer is any pre-written text. I shall have to write and publish in real time. I will not promise updates, as I cannot do so reliably. Follow to get notified automatically. Or use the 'Favourite' feature. And should you feel inclined towards helping me and donating some of your precious time, feedback of any kind would be most appreciated.


	8. Discovery

Within the Ministry of Magic, more specifically in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, a stern and authoritative-looking witch, a flustered but nicely dressed wizard, a big, stoic man with dark skin and a pointy-haired middle manager were, with differing feelings of anticipation, preparing for a meeting. As soon as the nervous man had entered, the formidable witch obviously presiding events was just opening her mouth to begin.

As different as the inhabitants of the large but Spartan office were, so differed their reactions to a flash of flame within which a tall wizard materialized. The neatly dressed man took a step back towards the wall, manoeuvring behind the large desk in the process. He bumped into the nondescript manager, who had also sought to seek shelter. Radically different, the tall man moved incredibly calm and yet at lightening speed to take a fighting stance and point his wand at the intruder. He was almost mirrored by the fierce-looking woman.

"Hmph.", the square-jawed woman huffed. Her broad jaws clenched and she lowered her arm. "What a…pleasant surprise. Glad to see you have found your way to our little _confidential_ conference. Every so often you seem to have an uncanny ability to accept invitations before they are actually extended, not to mention conceived of…", she added with a raised eyebrow. "But since miraculous circumstances have brought you to the right place at _just the right time_ , why don't you join us. Chief. Warlock.", she added with a deadly glare.

"My _dear_ Amelia! What an outright refreshing pleasure to meet you!", the old wizard said, beaming at them all. With a casual but caring movement, he tucked a small, ugly looking chick into a pocket of his garish robes (lime green with blue pin-stripes). "I am indeed looking forward to some…shall we say enlightening company." Behind his most friendly grandfather impression, he realised that he was _not_ invited at all, but the mention of his title told him that the head of the DMLE was expecting and accepting to not get rid of him.

As much as he enjoyed their usual banter, he felt curious as to why Amelia Bones would rather get to the point as quickly as possible instead of engaging in trading barbs about his meddlesome ways and flashy intrusion. He also felt the intense discomfort of a man in what appeared to be discreet but festive clothes. That had to be the wizard Kingsley had mentioned. The last person left he recognised as some mid-level administrative type.

With one more "Hmph!", Bones opened the meeting. The memo that led to Harold's assignment was reviewed. The pointy-haired man told them all of the damage to spell and ritual detectors. On the whole, it was a short affair to let Harold Hoper recount his on-call shift during the previous night. As he finished telling them how he had basically left the muggle on his own with minimal examination and treatment and as quickly as he could make it, more than one person frowned.

The stern witch bared her teeth. "Am I to understand that you did not check the other detectors despite the measurement maxing out, basically shirked your responsibilities towards the muggle as best as you could, wrote not a single letter of a report so by now almost _anything_ could have happened to him and we would _not even know his name?_ " Harold felt ice building up on the windows, had the impression of his breath coming out in puffs of white, shrank back from the increasingly withering stare the Boss of the DMLE bestowed upon him.

He tried to speak. Only a rasping sound emerged from his throat. He cleared it, coughed and tried again. "I…I…ah…I was about to write up the report tom — today!" - "On your day off.", the witch said icily. "How diligent." - "Well I checked! There was nothing _wrong_ with him! If I had found anything…" - "I am sure" - The old wizard interrupted - "you would have taken care of the man. May I suggest that we shift our focus on the most pressing matter: Finding out about any possible consequences of the muggles mysterious adventure?"

* * *

Funnily enough, consequences were exactly the thing felt in a certain cottage, currently inhabited by one quite distressed feline. To the back door. Left turn. Right turn at the sitting room. Enter, walk up to the couch, turn right, turn further around. Walk back out, turn left onto the hallway. To the back door. Repetare ad nausæum. For all the pacing, Enzo did not get anywhere. Neither was his situation changing, nor were his thoughts, neatly summarised by the phrase: "This is _impossible_!", repeated over and over again.

He was seriously freaked out. After realising that he apparently was not hallucinating but somehow suffering from a weird dream with reality issues, his brain had gone into shutdown. Like a mantra he reaffirmed the impossibility of his situation to himself. The problem was, that a mantra on its own never changed anything. He had _licked his paw_! With his abnormally long _tongue_! He was nervous, totally out of his depth and also, he was getting thirsty. And now even the stupid doorbell rang. _His doorbell rang!_

Freezing mid-step, his ears swivelled towards the front, where a somewhat listless voice proclaimed to have "a package for mister Enzo…Vel-Velluto?". 'Great!', Enzo thought, 'Just freaking great!'. His acute hearing could make out the rustling of leaves. The man was probably just shoving the package into the copse by the door. If anyone _dared_ to take his package! A low growl rumbled from his chest and he bared his teeth at the thought.

What had happened? He had growled? "Yes of course!", a voice inside his head seemed to shout. It was like he had gained something akin to another personality. One that did not quite grasp the mechanics of a door bell, but had a very fine understanding about ownership and when to growl, about fighting and…killing. It felt eerie. To have another, different understanding of the world. Simpler, yet more complicated in a weird way.

As if a seal had been breached, suddenly Enzo's head swam with instincts, with strange cognition, unreal reactions to trivial events. It was all so foreign. The smell of this place was familiar but not _his_ (He rubbed his cheek on the door post). The man at the door left and it instilled a sense of satisfaction as his territory was no longer invaded. The sound of birds and other animals outside was…interesting and promising, in a way. Yet despite all the newness of those thoughts, at the same time, it was him. It was a definitive part of him, that observed and reacted and felt this way.

As if he were a silent observer, as if his intellect had taken a back seat and chosen to watch, he saw, heard smelled and felt himself move again. He looked at his cottage with entirely different eyes and emotions. Many things were weird, for example a low hum could be heard from a grey box with black strings attached to the wall, but it was of no interest as it sat still and mostly silent. It did not smell of food or life at that. His couch was just a random shape, although he did understand the meaning of a soft resting place. With grace, he hopped onto it, landing on the tattered remains of his clothes.

As he routinely moved his nose over the garments, all the while inhaling, dissecting and interpreting the multitude of smells, he stopped at one place. There was the smell of a foreigner! A quick glance around and analysis of the sounds did not indicate a presence, so the stranger was no longer here. His fascinating ability to read the most unexpected things into the finest odour told him that the stranger had been male, not overtly sick and nervous.

As he had awoken not too long ago and had not yet familiarised himself with his surroundings in the 'new' way, he set out for some exploration. The more Enzo smelled and listened and _felt_ , the more the big cat felt at home. It was just amazing how sensitive his head alone was. He felt every small current of air with his twitching whiskers, all the smells transported with it, weird sounds from different boxes in this…cave. And everywhere, he made sure to rub his cheeks on things or to scratch a little bit as to distribute his own smell. As he acquainted himself with the place, it was becoming his after all.

And a second time that day, someone entered his territory. More than one intruder was walking closer! He darted into the hall towards the front door, hackles raised…

 **Authors note:** Yay! Progress! To my considerable enjoyment, I just read the story to myself imitating "The Impeccable Kevan Brighting". You will know (and probably love) his voice if you have played The Stanley Parable. Especially fitting is "His doorbell rang!". Just (aurally) picture the exasperation our protagonist feels!

My utmost gratitude shall be assured to anyone as gracious as to review my story.


	9. Rebound

"ahhhh…" - Wolfe sat up straight. Had he heard a sound, a low moan maybe? "ahhhhAAAAAAhhhrrgh!" - numerous black-clad people jerked upright, one or two almost falling off their chairs at the furious cry. It broke off and gave way to a cough. The nervous people did not flinch. "Water.", the voice whispered. Numerous men suddenly rushed to comply.

The moment they had both awaited and feared had come. After waiting for the rest of the night and into the morning, their leader finally stirred and tried to sit up. With barely restrained greed, he gulped down the goblet of water. After handing it to some random minion, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he struggled to his feet.

Everyone could see the difficulty. No one dared to even think on it. With a quiet hiss, he directed for everyone else to be woken up. Slowly, everyone came to. With varying expressions of suffering, the defeated Death Eaters got to their feet and gathered around the Dark Lord.

With quiet menace the latter addressed them: "My faithful death eaters." - the men shivered - "I suffer from an annoying headache and the most significant memory of this _most important_ night is… _failure_!" The sheer malice dripping from the last word seemed tangible.

The simple fact of admitting even the slightest discomfort spoke volumes about the anger bubbling beneath the surface. Every single one of them avoided His gaze. No one dared to make any sound, even breathing as shallow as possible. "If any of you wish to ingratiate themselves with me, _now_ is the right moment for ideas…" - he glanced around - "explanations…" - he turned the other way - "or _confessions_ …!", he spat.

With every one practically withering under his intense glare, he quickly lost his temper. "Foolproof! The plan was perfect! WHO OF YOU BETRAYED ME‽"…palpable silence…"CRUUCIOOO!"

A flash of light struck the nearest Death Eater. A mere boy, he had not served under Voldemort during the previous war. It was the first time he suffered from this most painful of the Unforgivables. His flailing arms and shrieks of agony drew the gaze of almost every single one of his followers.

The figure that called himself Lord Voldemort, most powerful wizard since Salazar Slytherin himself, froze. Still holding the curse, his eyes widened. He felt something that he had not felt in a long time when punishing incompetence or tardiness. Or merely amusing himself as it was.

The boy stopped wailing and was reduced to sobs and lying shivering on the floor. The Dark Lord kept his mask of cold fury in place while his mind raced. He was weak! So…weak! He, who had gone further than anyone on the way to true greatness, had a very precise understanding of his power and how much effort his various deeds required.

Torturing a young boy should almost not even register as an expense of magic! Yet he had felt the drain, the effort to maintain the curse while it lasted. And as soon as he had stopped, to his intense horror, he had been able to _feel_ the regeneration of his power!

 _That_ was truly troubling! "Leave.", he ordered tonelessly. "I will ponder yesterdays disaster and" - he looked up and fixated on each of their pale faces in turn - "you better think about it also. When I will call you again, I expect answers!"

After his minions had left, he allowed himself a shuddering breath. It had been a long time that he had felt this exhausted, magically. And he had indeed been able to feel the phase of regeneration after the Cruciatus spell. He began to try and think analytically.

Since the power expenditure for the curse remained known, that far he could trust his vast experience with it, that implied that his total power was within the same order of magnitude. Otherwise, he would not have felt the recovery of magic so accurately. Then again, since he _had_ gotten a clear impression of that process, he could estimate the rate of his recovery.

Slowly, the greatest and most ruthless of all Dark Lords sank into a chair. It was devastating. If his estimates were right, he was in unfathomable trouble. He took a calming breath. "Magnum Incendium!", he spoke. Instantly, a stream of bright flames erupted from his wand. He sustained the spell for five seconds.

Feeling with dreadful detail as he regained his full magical strength, he waited ten minutes. Then he repeated the incantation. After recuperating, he waited another ten minutes. Then, he conjured the flames for the third time. He shied away from the conclusion he was coming to. No improvement over twenty minutes.

"No improvement!", he murmured to himself. _Impossible!_ That would imply that his magical power was…at its highest! Right now! At this…pitiful level! He might as well be a sixth year student again! No way this could be true…He was an experienced scholar of dark arts, master of ancient and forgotten crafts of most powerful magics! He had travelled down the road to immortality further than anyone else in written history! He was powerful, _had_ to be to earn his current reputation and skill set.

Yet it could not be denied. Something had gone horribly wrong with the ritual. And he was, for the time being, a…it was unthinkable. He was…was…a cripple. It was almost the worst nightmare to bear for one to have previously become so many other's personified nightmare. The only offense worse would have been the loss of magic altogether.

He sat for many minutes. It had been quite rare, that he had felt outright despair. Anger, Rage? Plenty. Frustration? It came naturally with herding lesser wizards. Fear? Yes, ages ago, when he had just began his journey, when he had not yet had the experience in dealing with dark creatures and dark secrets. But to feel utterly at a loss, that had not occurred past his third year in Hogwarts, when that meddling long-bearded fool had almost found evidence for his little association and their goals.

With unusual effort, he dragged his thoughts out of the frustrating rabbit hole. He still was Lord Voldemort! And no one had handed him anything for free after all. There had to be a way to fix this. He just had to apply the razor sharp intellect he still possessed to reaffirm his greatness. 'No rash actions!', he told himself sternly. 'Cool, calm, collected, victorious!'

But first, he had to assess the state of things. "Malfoy!", he shouted. The man entered. "What have you found out?", the Dark Lord asked. "My Lord!" - a deferent bow - "No one knows a thing. Every one swears up and down they diligently followed every instruction to the tee. No one recalls the slightest flaw, a scratch in the runes, a misaligned glyph, anything out of place. They all claim that whatever went wrong did so completely out of the blue."

In the ensuing silence, the man's gulp was quite audible. "No one…admitted anything?" - "Not in front of me, no." Again, oppressive silence. "Fetch the people most knowledgeable with runes and arithmantic equations. But first, conjure me more water, a large table and comfortable seating." The tall blond man bowed lightly and waved his wand to fulfil his masters strangely specific request. He did not notice the intense scrutiny he was put under.

As he had suspected. Malfoy was on par with the best of stage actors. But the slight tightness around his eyes gave away the strain he must have felt. The order had been given specifically to task skill and power of the wizard. And when he asked his servant about the strained execution, the man had flinched and…become embarrassed.

"Lucius. Do you…not feel well?", he asked with utmost nonchalance. "My Lord!", Malfoy answered. "The ritual…I feel honoured to have been made part of something so great. But it…proves strenuous. I do not feel my most powerful at the moment. I am sure after a good night's sleep, I will be able to serve You as faithfully and strong as ever!"

After giving a gracious nod and demanding for the other followers and all the diagrams for the ritual, they poured over them with vigour. The Dark Lord was divided. On the one hand, his minions were weakened also, which meant that they would not attempt a coup. On the other hand, it might lead them to the conclusion that _he_ was weakened as well. Both ways, he was in trouble.

 **A/N:** After receiving the first review, I felt indeed thoroughly inspired to write. And the reviewer rightfully asked for news on everyone's favourite Dark Lord. So from nothing came this new chapter. For You to enjoy and review.


	10. House Call

The tall dark-skinned man left, having received his orders. "So we are in agreement to not raise any bigger fuss than we already have? Good.", the stern witch with the monocle stated. "Only the Chief Warlock, Hoper and me will investigate this matter. And in the meantime" - she locked her steely gaze onto the nondescript manager - "No one else will be notified of the possible severity of what happened and the people involved!" She waited to see vigorous nodding before sending the man off.

As only Harold Hoper had been to the muggle's place, they asked him to provide the address. With sweat collecting on his brow, he tried to remember the place. He _really_ should have taken notes! At least about the village and the street name, he was sure. "I…will have to see it myself to be sure. The house was a bit receded from the street and the name was Italian, so we should find it quickly.", Harold said uncomfortably. Seeing the disgust in Amelia Bones' face and the mildly reprobative look from Dumbledore, he felt once more like a little school boy.

With the head of the DMLE's dispensation, the old wizard created a portkey to the approximate area of the village. Then, the three were whisked away, landing with varying amounts of dignity. They walked out of the small copse of trees that had concealed their arrival from the street. Not far down the road, Hoper exclaimed in relief his recognition of the small cottage. They walked down the path leading towards the front door. The only thing out of place was a sticky, brightly pink piece of paper with 'package on left side' scrawled on it.

Harold Hoper was, somewhat true to his name, hoping with all his might that everything would turn out to be alright any moment. He took the lead and made to unlock the door, saying: "Now see, everything seems in order. I will just talk to the man inside and clear everything up!" In his rush to get out of this mess, he did not notice a low rumbling emanating from behind the door. "Harold!", Dumbledore exclaimed. Bones also looked watchful, wand drawn and at the ready. "No worries", the heedless wizard continued.

With a deft "Alohomora!", the lock clicked. As he pushed the door open, head turned towards his seniors, he heard himself say "Only a normal muggle, you'll see…" After turning around, looking almost into the face of a very, _very_ large leopard snarling ferociously at him, he froze. Just as the big cat was about to pounce, he emitted a scream that would have made the proverbial little girl flush with embarrassment…or pride.

* * *

He was hearing the footsteps of the intruders, interrupted by their voices. At that moment, Enzo did not recognize any meaning behind the weird babbling. Just as well, they were coming closer to _his_ place. He growled to let them know. Only one of them continued to advance. He was continuously making those blathering noises. Suddenly the door clicked. Then it was shoved open. The trespasser had his head turned away. Enzo snarled and got ready to pounce on the intruder.

Suddenly, an infernal noise shrilled in his sensitive ears. It was the most disconcerting thing he could presently remember and it made him stop in place and crouch low to the ground. The man, Enzo had recognized that by the smell, collapsed in a dead faint. As that exposed Enzo to the rapidly widening eyes of the other two figures, one of them mumbled something sounding like 'Nundu!' and suddenly sprang into action. "Sphaera Signati Magicae!", he bellowed, moving a wooden stick in intricate patterns and also making a shaping motion with his free hand.

 _Something_ inside of Enzo resonated with whatever this man was doing. This peculiar feeling made him forget about defending his territory and also, in a way, nudged the anger aside, leaving the feline rather curious. A translucent sphere made of…something intangible surrounded the cottage and the two remaining people. Since he was no longer fighting, Enzo did recognize them as people. The woman spoke some words and waved another stick and all three heads of them were encased in some sort of bubble.

Slowly, the leopard sat up. Intruders or not, something - no, many things - were off. He somehow _felt_ the bubbles and the large dome above them. And he realized that he was not under attack. Instead, both sides watched each other warily. The feline's head tilted to one side as he tried to make sense of the situation. He glanced down at the bubble-headed man in front of him.

'They must be wizards', someone seemingly stated in his mind. Slightly bewildered, the more feral side of Enzo was gently pushed aside by a part of him that claimed to understand far better what was happening. Yet his rational part was indeed facing some difficulty in wrapping his large head around the last seconds. The old man spoke quietly: "I have ensured that nothing can escape from this place for now. Let us avoid any sudden movement and threatening behaviour until we are sure or have no other choice - NO!"

Enzo jerked his paw away from the bubble on the unconscious man's head and looked indignantly at the man that had yelled at him. It just drew his attention with the buzzing feeling that got stronger, the closer he moved towards it. He had almost been close enough to touch it. Slightly annoyed, he bared his teeth and hissed softly. The two people in front of him froze, holding their breath. When nothing else happened, he licked his nose and again tilted his head, watching them.

Slowly bowing down, never loosing sight of the other two, he sniffed at the man lying in front of him. Again, the weird sphere (the term just seemed to make sense) caught his attention. It did not smell per se, but instead seemed to create an absence of olfactory information. 'Like a filter', his rational side mused.

Again, he tentatively moved a paw towards it and enjoyed the tickling feeling as he came close again. As he touched it, the tingling sensation increased and he could feel the surface yielding to the pressure. "Dont!", the man said, in a quiet but imploring manner. The huge cat looked up and pulled the paw away, slowly this time.

"Albus?" - "Could it be…", the old man murmured absently. After glancing at the name plate on the mailbox, he looked at Enzo's chest. "Mr. Velluto. You must not touch the bubble on Mr. Hopers head. It is necessary for our protection." The cat blinked slowly in an almost deliberate manner. The woman whispered: "Albus, the shield is preventing me from contacting reinforcements." "And I don't see that there is anyone home anymore.", she added with a meaningful glance towards the big cat. Which again hissed softly, at her this time, and in a way that could have been construed as offended.

"Oh-Hoh!", the old man exclaimed, minutely relaxing his tense stance, the hint of a twinkle in his eyes. "We might yet live to enjoy lunch…", he said with a smile. "Albus, are you thinking…are you daft‽ If this is indeed a Nundu, we might have a problem equal to the Dark Lord on our hands! We must not waste any time!" - "Au contraire, Amelia. If my hunch is right, we might indeed _spare_ ourselves a lot of trouble by not rushing this. Forgive me, but many times I find myself quite right about the most vague of things. Let me thus place my bet…"

In the direction of the big cat (that had apparently watched their exchange closely), the old man spoke in a firm but challenging voice: "What is the square root of four?" Enzo blinked. The 'old' part of him almost wanted to raise his hand and blurt out the answer. A strange sound escaped from his muzzle, something like a "Mwah." But that was not the answer! Having an idea, human Enzo decided to pat the ground in front of him two times.

The woman raised her eyebrow and said dryly: "You _do_ know that you are quite the dotty old man, don't you? If your silly riddles kill me, I shall haunt you rather severely!" "That might have been coincidence, I know." The twinkle intensified. "Once more: What is the square root of 144?" Enzo blinked. "12", old, educated Enzo told him. He patted the ground twelve times with his right paw. With every pat, the man seemed to relax more and more, until he smiled as broadly as possible with closed lips.

The woman stared. Shaking her head, muttering something about being damned sometime in the future, she exhaled and seemed to relax a bit. "Splendid!", the old man exclaimed. "Now: Are you Mr. Enzo Velluto?" The big cat thought. He was, and yet he was not. In that moment, he realized that it was indeed his choice. And the rational side of him grabbed onto the name. While a cat could not care less, for a sentient being, a name meant respect and, in this case, opportunities. A distinct nod.

With a severe "Hmm" and a grave nod in answering, the man relaxed a bit more. "We wish you no harm, sir. But there is a chance that you may harm us unintentionally. I would like to bring you to a safe place where there are few people around at the moment and where we can more easily -" The woman interrupted: "Don't tell me you want to bring that…that…to the school! This is a matter for the people from Magical Creatures!" Suddenly, the old man seemed to become bigger without growing a hair's breadth, a subtle aura of power flared.

"Amelia", he said with a voice suddenly grave and laced with authority, "I was unable to connect to this fascinating being's mind. But I could sense a hint of consciousness and that hint grew stronger, as soon as Mr. Velluto solved the math exercises. If we hasten to treat this sentient being as a dangerous creature, if _we_ are the ones to threaten first, we might bring exactly what we fear upon us. If the person of Enzo Velluto is still present, I want to encourage dialogue, I want to encourage rational thought. I do _not_ wish to destroy a life unnecessarily…"

The man turned towards Enzo: "Indeed, I want to extend a helping hand. You do not yet know me, but I assure you, I am quite knowledgeable in a number of arcane arts. If you are willing to help me, I promise you to help, to look into whatever occurred to you and do my utmost to get you out of this predicament. But I do require your promise to not endanger anyone, to keep any wild side of yours in check as good as possible and to try and follow my direction."

"I want to prove my trust. For now, will you promise not to run away?" After short deliberation, Enzo nodded. A twirl of the wooden stick made the large dome around them dissolve. "I will cast a spell on you that will tell me about the danger you may pose. Do not be afraid." After another nod from the feline, a blue light shone around him. Then a yellow-ish glow. "Hmm. Amelia, you may remove the bubble-head charm. There is no trace of the pestilence residing in an ordinary Nundu."

The woman began to ask: "Are you -" "- Yes, quite.", the man cut her off with a reassuring smile. After she had waved her stick and the bubbles had disappeared, he turned back towards Enzo. "Will you come with me and allow me to help you?", the old man asked him. The big cat's forehead furrowed in mimicry of a thoughtful frown. As if weighing options in contemplation, the leopard's head moved from side to side.

Suddenly, a translucent doe appeared in front of the wizard, slightly startling Enzo and making him crouch down warily. It spoke with a decidedly un-doe-ish, gruff voice: "Managed contact. Investigation team from other side incoming. Arrival any moment outside the man's home."

While the spectre dissolved (to the puzzlement of one large cat), the stern woman closed her mouth and furiously spat: "Albus! I'll need an explanation this instant! By Merlin's beard, what game are you playing here‽" The man raised a hand, forestalling any further statement. After closing his eyes for a moment, he opened them again, two intensely burning blue orbs turning towards Enzo's green ones. "Mr. Velluto. Tempus fugit, it appears. Do you trust me?"

The big cat that had decided to stay Enzo for the time being, looked into the eyes of the old man. Under different circumstances, staring at one another like that would have provoked aggression, but somehow the sincerity of the man's intentions burned in those eyes. Making a decision on the spur of the moment, he followed his gut and nodded.

The man murmured a word and again there was that tingle, this time attached to a scrap of parchment. The woman was furious and pointed her stick at the man. "Albus.", she hissed in cold fury, "What. Are. You. Doing!" "In a moment, Amelia", the old man said with a sidelong glance at her, still speaking with power and determination in his eyes.

"Mr. Velluto, touch this parchment. I will say a phrase and you will be transported to the safe place I mentioned. Be not afraid, you will neither be hurt, nor lost. You will arrive at the edge of a forest. There will be a hut with a very large man inside. Bring him the parchment. _Inscribere_ " - words appeared on the surface - "He will look after you until I can return myself. I trust him with my life." The piece of parchment floated towards Enzo and came to rest at his feet.

A big paw covered most of the piece. The old man nodded - two pops sounded nearby, making the cat jerk his head towards the noise - and spoke "To home!" Suddenly, Enzo felt a tug within himself and was flung through the very fabric of space time.

* * *

 **A/N:** Wow, how insanely difficult to write was _that_? I was torn between letting it sit longer and revising and just thrusting it out there to get it over with. I do hope it did not strain your suspension of disbelief too much. But writing this outlandish scene proved quite challenging. The chapter is significantly longer than usual, yet it did not occur to me where to divide it in a pleasing way. Are the people involved sufficiently in character?

Should you discover any glaring flaws or wish for me to revise it, let me know. Meanwhile, hoping to have not messed up and hoping to get to know my reader's thoughts, I hereby remain your grateful author.


	11. Relocation

_Whoosh!_ In a flurry of chaotic movement, dazzling colors and a nauseating upheaval of gravity, a large leopard was squeezed from nothingness unto an otherwise quiet lawn. Barely, the agitated feline managed to get its feet under it. With an angry growl, the cat spun around, trying to get its bearings, tail lashing.

He was furious. It had been sudden, disconcerting and most uncomfortable! What the hell had just happened? He was out in the open! No cover! A mass of stone…too isolated on the grass. Trees! Trees meant shelter. He had to leave the plain!

Quickly, the leopard made for the woods. Barely ten seconds had passed before the feline was halfway to the forest. Within the mass of stone, a chair was shoved backwards with a scratching noise.

Rubeus Hagrid was, although of intimidating size and strength, a rather unhurried person. The whooshing sound had barely disturbed him as there was always the possibility of it being a hippogriff hoping for a snack or a gust of wind rushing by his hut. But the noise after that had definitely sounded like a large, angry or hurt creature.

After it had registered, he immediately decided to get up and investigate the noise. After all, his reputation about caring deeply about all sorts of creatures was based on fact. As he opened the door to his hut, he found nothing noteworthy at first. Then, a flicker of movement caught his eye.

With his large stride, he quickly caught up to the scrap of parchment before the wind could blow it into the lake. First, he thought the wind had picked up the rubbish of a sloppy student. But since they had left months ago and the parchment looked quite neat, it couldn't be. Giving it an inspection, his eyebrows rose.

The unmistakable script of the Headmaster addressed him!

Dear Hagrid!

As delighted as you might feel at the company, please meet the large feline with utmost respect. He is the muggle victim of a severe magical mishap and will stay at Hogwarts until his situation can be sorted out. His name is Enzo Velluto. I will return as soon as possible but can make no promises. Until such time, please take good care of our guest.

Albus

"Hmm.", the large man made. With a frown, he looked around, taking in every part of the grounds he could see. Well, the note was new and it definitely explained the first sound he had heard. But if indeed a feline had arrived, the second sound, and more so the total absence of their guest, promised some complications.

A man not to dwell on might-be's, he went back inside and got ready for a day out in the forest. He had a feeling about that…

As soon as he was under the canopy of the forests large trees, the big cat felt more at ease. He instinctively seemed to know his way around trees. But the deeper he ventured into the forest, the stronger he felt a diffuse undercurrent to the aura of the forest.

Something within him resonated with it and it seemed to permeate the very atmosphere around him. Suddenly, he stilled. There had been a small noise to his left. There! A rustling, followed by subtle shifting of leaves.

He tensed. With slow, deliberate movements, he turned and advanced on the edge of the bramble. He was getting closer and his ears, tilted forward and upright, caught the movements of a twitchy creature. The tip of his tail quivered and hit a dry leaf.

The nervous little sounds stopped. He froze, one paw in mid-air. Suddenly, there was a sound and two furry little creatures shot out of the bushes and made for thicket deeper into the forest.

In an explosive movement, he pounced, chasing after the little animals. As if realising the mortal danger, they seemed to speed up even more, jumping left and right, changing directions incredibly fast. He was far too large to follow their movement, and so, to his immense disappointment, they vanished in different directions and in quite thick and thorny bushes.

Panting slightly, he took in his surroundings. Then, a concept entered his mind. He began looking for something.

Hagrid had found the paw prints easily enough and was following them towards the forest. Then a shadow seemed to speed towards him. Tilting his head upwards, he saw a large, winged creature taking a turn and descending. Having landed, the creature eagerly approached him. Two more landed a bit farther away and eyed him curiously.

"Firetalon!", Hagrid greeted the creature. After rather casual bows, the hippogriff quickly came near and waited for the traditional affections. Obligingly, Hagrid rubbed the neck of the beast. "Look, I sorta have a job ter do, y'know?", he said and advanced towards the forest. Suddenly, a tugging at his shoulder bag made him look down. "Oi! Ye li'le rascal, keep yer nosy beak outta tha'!"

The new hippogriff, having used Firetalon as a distraction, had thought to pilfer the friendly giant's luggage for a snack on his own and gave Hagrid a rather miffed look at the admonishment. "Ohh, come on! Don' look at me like that!", the gamekeeper said, knowing full well that his loving nature was being thoroughly exploited.

After the third hippogriff had approached and all three did their level best imitation of a sad puppy, he caved. A little. With a grumbled "All right…", he removed three small pieces of meat from his bag and threw each of them a slice. They snatched them happily out of the air. Forcing sternness into his voice, he told them that he was busy and had to leave.

Within the forest, the feline found a little brook forming a pond. Making sure no-one was in sight, the small clearing was soon filled with the splashes of a drinking big cat. Having stilled his thirst and licking his chops, he quietly set off into the forest. A smell had piqued his interest…

After getting rid of the nosy hippogriffs, he had had to pet a small group of thestrals, lest he make them feel under-appreciated. Then, he had to find the tracks again, having to get beyond the impressions of the leathery beasts.

Now, there were signs of disruption, little tufts of fur clinging to the thorns of a thick blackberry bush. Maybe a little creature had been spooked? It made sense if there was a large feline around.

A doe was grazing on a clearing within the Forbidden Forest. The shy creature stilled from time to time, looking around, watchful ears constantly on alert for any danger. A pair of eyes focused on her. One creature watched the other feed. Then decided to jump out of the small shrubbery, having just spotted its prize.

The doe was almost scared out of its pelt and took off like a shot. The other creature looked after it, puzzled. It then focused again on the reason it loved this clearing so much. Then, the sky darkened. A frightening sound was heard, then, just about to set off towards safety, a tremendous force, squeezing hard and tearing through skin and snapping bone, then nothing.

Having let escape a wild boar, the leopard was livid. He was hungry! Why was this so difficult? Slowly approaching another clearing, he saw a doe. A rather tasty-looking one, for that matter. As he was about to be close enough, the creature took off. Frustration started to build.

Then he realized what the reason had been. A small creature, looking like a rabbit the size of a little dog, its fur white with faint violet spots and a crinkly sort of horn on its head. This nasty little interloper would have it!

He changed direction, then pounced on the small thing as it still looked in the direction the doe had left in. Then, he grabbed it with a front paw, right as it had realized the danger and started to move. Then, something happened.

Like a see-saw, his mind shifted into a different mode. The leopard had been angry a moment before, but now, it was focused solely on catching prey, catching and consuming it. In a (rather gory) haze, time passed, in which it apparently devoured most of the creature. There was nothing valuable left and the big cat decided a celebratory nap would be in order.

Quickly scaling a sturdy tree nearby, the feline made itself comfortable on abroad branch and dozed off.

Hagrid was not a proud man, but he did think of himself as an accomplished tracker. So it had galled him when he had lost track of his elusive quarry. Although having had to backtrack, he was once more in a good mood, believing to be very close.

After a short nap, the big cat climbed down from the tree and made its way back to the pond. Drinking a bit, the water went red when touching the broad muzzle. Laying down in a sunny spot next to the softly babbling brook, the large tongue went to work, cleaning paws and face.

A delighted cooing noise was heard, making the large beast freeze momentarily. A huge creature on two legs was approaching with great strides. But it made such ridiculously joyful and affectionate noises that it wouldn't quite come over as alarming. More importantly, in one appendage, it seemed to hold food!

The feline was torn. On one hand, what ever it was, it was big, even to him. And it was strong, something about it just stated that fact bluntly. Yet, it made soothing noises and there was food. That smelled so good and - ohh - there was that curious tingling feeling around it!

Hagrid almost had tears in his eyes. This just _had_ to be the big cat he was looking for! And it was so beautiful! The nearer he came, the slower he went. Halfway to the wary beast, he took out a slab of meat.

Instantly, the ears perked up and the broad nose twitched. Since he had manoeuvred himself downwind, the smell had to be wafting towards the creature. He came to a standstill a few metres in front of it, when the feline began to crouch down. "Nice and easy.", he said. "Everythin's aaalright."

A piece of meat went flying towards the cat. Who watched it minutely. Then, without leaving Hagrid out of its sight, the muzzle slowly moved towards it. Then, the large tongue basically licked it up and it vanished. The beast sat down and tilted its head.

 **A/N:** Despite not making any promises, I _do_ feel bad about not posting sooner. But somehow, I lost the inspiration a bit and real life is also demanding time. Writing after this long break felt a bit weird and I do hope this chapter isn't too much mindless filler. It does set a stage of sorts though.

Since it is the end of the year (how about a review for a present?) and I will be on the move until January, there might not be another chapter in 2016. Take care.


	12. New Acquaintance

**A/N:** So, it's been two years since I intended to continue this work of fiction. I will not bore you begging your pardon, I simply lost momentum and a lot happened in RL. Mea culpa, I truly am sorry. While there is not that much left to tell of this tale, a proper conclusion is forthcoming. Although, you might want to re-read the story after all this time.

* * *

The big cat had calmed down after seeing that the large creature was no threat and quite friendly. When he had heard it speak in a calm voice, things had changed again. "Mr. …Velluto?" the being had said. "Me name's Rubeus Hagrid, but call me Hagrid. Er…" He faltered, realising his faux pas. "Look, I'm here to take good care of ye. The Headmaster, I mean Albus Dumbledore, wrote a letter and told me about your, eh, your trouble." A wide smile broke out on the man's face. "And I'll say, I think I'll be happy to have you as a guest. And once Dumbledore gets to sortin' things out, everythin'll be alright, faster than you could say quidditch! _Great_ man, Dumbledore!"

Once he was calm and had been approached in a way befitting an intelligent being, Enzo's human mind once again awoke. He blinked and took in his situation. It was not that he was not aware of the past hour, but during the time the cat had taken over, he had merely watched, instead of making decisions. But in this context, he felt the instinctive part of him retreat and take a back seat.

Enzo shook his big head. He had wandered into this large forest that seemed to have called him in some way. Now, someone claiming to be sent by a Headmaster. Was he at a school? But the description given by the mysterious old man of "a very large man" seemed to fit his pursuer perfectly. He slowly got up and walked towards the man.

Hagrid saw the feline's face go through motions a human might have made while deeply in thought. Taking it as a good sign, he smiled and tried to look as relaxed as possible. When the beast looked at him, he could tell from the upright ears and the relaxed tail that he was not in immediate danger, but more a target for the creature's curiosity.

Enzo slowly approached the big man and carefully moved his nose towards an outstretched hand. Bumping it with his nose, he took in the smell. It told him of…earth, strength, something ancient and…joy? With a surprised huff, he moved his nose back and looked at the man's face. Sure enough, he saw a broad grin.

Everyone knew: Hagrid loved animals. While that itself was not a falsehood, it left out that he tended to love them more, the bigger or more dangerous they were. And this magnificent creature was more beautiful to him than any work of art ever could have been. He took in all the details, the strong muscles, the luscious pelt, the broad muzzle housing large ivory instruments of death, the huge paws, surely home to giant, sharp claws. He could not help but smile and almost shed tears of joy when the beast sniffed his hand to get to know him.

Instinctively, he moved his hand slowly to the side of the cat's head, once that had moved back from his hand. "See?" he said, "I mean ye no harm." And with that, he gave the side of this large head a gentle stroke. The large cat blinked at the new experience, but did not recoil. And when he repeated the motion with a little more strength, he could feel the beast leaning into it by the slightest amount and see it give him a very slow blink.

Enzo found this man quite interesting, he was somehow extraordinary, that he was sure about. But when he felt his cheek being stroked, he was surprised. What was that about? But then, his feline side assured him that everything was in order. Since it was obvious that there was no danger, getting groomed was certainly something to enjoy! And so, for the first time this morning, he started to truly relax, more at ease with himself than ever before on that day.

In a way that seemed natural to both of them, Enzo laid down and Hagrid sat in sync, starting to give the feline a head massage. And Enzo had never felt anything like it. A strong instinct told him that he could trust this man absolutely. And so he relaxed, taking hints from his feline side on how to enjoy company. And this man somehow just did the right thing. A low rumble emerged from his throat, not a threat, but an expression of utter contentment…

When he turned sideways and started to playfully swat at the man's hand, that earned him a chuckle and soon, kneeling down freed a second hand that mock-attacked his belly. Enzo made a noise of surprise and retaliated, catching one arm and chewing on it gently, while using his hind paws to fend off the other.

A short distance downwind a large hand met a forehead above an exasperated face.

As far as he was concerned, Hagrid might have been in heaven. Only cuddling with a dragon might have beat giving a presumed nundu belly-rubs. And the cat seemed happy, too.

But after a few minutes, both calmed and Enzo stood up and shook himself. It suddenly dawned on him that he had just behaved like a happy-go-lucky kitten.

Hagrid seemed to become aware of this, too. He hastily stood up and began to fidget. "Er, well, I'm sorry, Mr. Velluto" he said, uncomfortable with having treated the man akin to a house cat.

Coughing nervously and putting on a more business-like air, Hagrid suggested they go back to the castle. Enzo looked at him, puzzled. Was there a castle nearby?

The large man turned, looked back over his shoulder and said, "Well, come on. I'm sure you'll like it." He chuckled and added, "And there's also going to be a snack for tea, I s'pose…"

"Aha!" Enzo thought. Why didn't the man say so right away? Of course he would follow him in that case!

* * *

Enzo felt decidedly out of sorts. He paid only half a mind to following Hagrid without getting distracted by a smell, a sound or some movement catching his attention. He felt like holding two very different states of mind in each hand and being stretched uncomfortably between them. On one side was his old self, the human Enzo, that developed software and had an unassuming, albeit somewhat lonely, but fundamentally _normal_ life. On the other side, there was a wild creature. A predator, that could surely act like a cuddly kitten under the right circumstances, but still _had_ the untameable wild side that had made him _kill_ and _eat_ a little furry animal that his _human_ side would probably have called _cute_!

And now, looking back on it, it felt ridiculous to let a grown man touch his furry belly and rub his head. Not to mention that he had clearly exposed parts of him usually covered by clothing. And not only did it feel ridiculous and embarrassing on one hand, any human would be mortified in his place. On the other paw, animals did not care about concepts like modesty or indecency. Such nonsense simply was of no concern. Indeed, deciding to trust this person enough to expose his vulnerable underside was the most profound compliment he could have offered!

And that this Rubeus Hagrid seemed to be incredibly in tune with nature and animals and had just accepted him just as he was did not make it easier. Enzo realised that how he was treated influenced how he felt. It encouraged either his human or his feline side. And now, when he was left to his own devices and rather calm, he felt somewhat in the middle. Like being tied between two giant rubber bands and having settled in a position of equilibrium.

After a while, they were reaching the edge of the forest. Enzo slowed down and looked back. Hagrid stopped and turned around. Both silently watched the ancient, mystical woods.

"It beckons to ye, doesn't it?" Hagrid said. Enzo turned to him, curious. The large man looked at him, smiling. "You can feel it too, eh? It's probably the most magical forest in all of Britain. Just a right ancient piece of landscape." His tone became reverent. "It's raw and beautiful. Full of life and secrets. It… it's just _grand_."

And at that moment, sensing the deep chord having been struck within both of them, Enzo padded over and rubbed his large head against Hagrid's hip. It was just the natural way of expressing his approval of the sentiment and that he felt, indeed, the same.

With a wistful smile still on his face, Hagrid turned again and said, "Well, it'll still be there tomorrow. Let's get you settled in."


	13. Conclusion

Enzo watched from afar, as a string of Thestral-drawn carriages delivered the returning students to Hogwarts. Hagrid was tending to the students not returning, but coming for their first year. He was mulling over how to broach the subject of his, as things appeared, continuous stay as a new inhabitant of the lands.

It had been a month since his life had been turned upside-down. Nothing was as it had been. _He_ was not as he had been. The ancient wizard had certainly impressed him with all his knowledge. But, so it appeared, some things could just not be easier undone than achieved in the first place.

I. Explanations

Enzo had been lead to the headmaster's office by Hagrid. On the way, a sour-faced man had joined them, eyeing him suspiciously. He had approached him to take in his scent but the man had drawn back and taken a defensive posture. Enzo had made a noise of disapproval and left him alone. While waiting for the stone figure guarding the entrance to let them pass, a fourth person had approached.

She looked like a stern woman, hair in a tight bun. Yet, she seemed passingly familiar, as she had, still wary, let him bump his nose to her arm in greeting. And she had deliberately blinked at him. That seemed odd, but still made him feel that they would, generally, see eye to eye.

Having entered the ornate office, they had assembled in front of the old headmaster. He had looked quite stereotypical, long white hair and beard, flowing robes, twinkling eyes behind half-moon spectacles. Just like a wizard out of a fairy tale. Yet, he had been rather business-like in introducing everyone and summarising the situation as it had presented itself to him. Then he asked the grumpy-looking one, Professor Snape, to take over.

Snape had recounted how the Dark Lord had designed a ritual to improve his magically constructed body. The ritual had gone quite differently than planned, turning Enzo into the half-animal he had been for the last days. The dark wizard had been reclusive and wary. His followers apparently suffered from a strange ailment where their magical power was somehow weakened. But since this would be any wizard's greatest shame, that was mostly conjecture, based on careless admissions from less guarded participants. Snape had expressed his frustration at not getting much information since he had not been in the know in the first place.

"Thank you, Severus" the old wizard had said. "Now, since, unfortunately, Mr. Velluto will have difficulty in telling us, not in the least due to memory charms, we will have to try and reconstruct the ritual as good as possible. I would hope that you, Mr. Velluto, will be able to tell us at least whether we are right or wrong about things in a general sense." Enzo had nodded his assent and blinked benevolently at the group.

After puzzling together what Snape knew about the ritual, what the quite knowledgeable Professor McGonagall could tell about changing things and people from one thing to another, they had prepared a rough sketch of how the ritual might have looked. Enzo had looked on, quite miffed at not being able to help, or at least, express himself more clearly. Then, Dumbledore's expression had lightened up, as if in sudden realisation.

"My, my…" he had chuckled. "I must beg all your pardon. This idea _should_ have occurred to me much earlier but the day has proven more strenuous than I anticipated. Nonetheless, it might still provide us some insight." With a wave of his wand, a flat stone basin had come floating into view. "Mr. Velluto, since I am not quite able to connect to your mind to retrieve some of your memories, there is one more avenue we have left. This is a pensieve. A magical device used to store and exam memories. With your permission, I will try to extract as much of a memory from this fateful night as you have left."

When Enzo had nodded again, eager to help, the old wizard had smiled and explained further. Then, making as good an effort as he could, Enzo had tried to think about the evening, despite his mind struggling with a slippery surface, blocking him from accessing details. A small, silvery glowing mist had collected around the tip of Dumbledore's wand and had been deposited into the basin.

They had then reviewed the quite fuzzy flashes of memory left. A snapshot of his abduction, large teeth in a snarling face, the cage and then a blurry image of his perspective of the ritual site. The headmaster had explained that the combined magic of the pensive and the power of his wand could still not restore erased memories entirely. But the last impression, giving them the general layout, was worth a lot.

Their reconstruction had been completely revised. "Hmm" Dumbledore had said, stroking his beard. "A ritual based on exchange, it seems. It was laid out, if I am not mistaken, in a chain of three runic circles. One containing the conductor of the ritual and receptacle simultaneously. Then one with the source of the exchange. And then a third circle, making it from an exchange into a dark ritual of imprinting certain favoured aspects, sacrificing a third party." The others had made less than happy faces at this. The old wizard had turned to Enzo, explaining further.

"You see, every ritual requires a sacrifice. In an exchange ritual, you would, for example, take someone with a different hair color. And to gain their hair color, you might offer your musicality, or similar. There is always payment. And also, a tax, of sorts. First, a lot of magical energy is necessary for rituals, which is why simple hair changing charms are used instead. Second, what is lost is almost always of greater importance than what is gained. Third, the effects brought on by a ritual are often persistent. _Some…_ _might_ be reversed by giving up the sacrifice." he ventured.

II. Downfall

Oh, he had indeed hoped for things to go back. It had not been a good time, finally realising that they could not turn him back. Or, more specifically, not without sacrificing the best chance to fight the evil dark lord they would ever get. He had literally threwn a hissy fit, when they arrived at the conclusion that he could not change back without risking great tragedy.

So this wanker of a dark lord had ended his life as human Enzo Velluto forever, even when making possibly the biggest blunder of his dubious career. Enzo would forever be trapped in this feline body. A graceful beast, beautiful to look at, strong and still as intelligent as ever. But nonetheless trapped in a body without speech, no way to take part in conversations or to express himself with the precision his thoughts often demanded. It had taken quite some time to get used to looking in a mirror as his new self.

With grim satisfaction, he remembered the day Dumbledore had returned. A sad but determined expression on his face. Voldemort had been defeated. There were still remnants of him in this world, but they were being investigated and exterminated, one by one. The most competent person in law enforcement had been told, at last, and had sworn to see the task through.

Removing the dark wizard's corporeal form for another time had dealt a heavy blow to his supporters. Many of them had been killed or apprehended in the last battle. Most others had fled or held their heads low, hoping for their participation to remain unknown.

Dumbledore himself had told Enzo, with a severe expression, how he had helped them all by letting the magic stay bound to him. This had weakened Voldemort so much, that Dumbledore had defeated him almost easily. And then, the ancient warrior had impulsively hugged him and wet his fur with tears of heartfelt gratitude and genuine sorrow at condemning Enzo to his fate. Yet, he had also promised his unwavering support in trying to make his life as enjoyable as possible.

III. Realisation

Back in the study, when they had still tried to explain this fateful night's events, the old wizard's expression had become sombre. "The ritual you were unfortunate to take part in was a dark ritual. For the only way not to pay with a sacrifice of your own, is with sacrificing someone else. And as this is no longer simply an exchange, the cost is usually a lot steeper, making most such rituals fatal. Now, as we can assume, Tom intended to take on certain characteristics from the source, the nundu, and fuel the process by sacrificing your life. Think of him pulling all the aspects he wanted towards himself and using your sacrifice to push them out of the source and into him."

"As foolish as I know Tom to be in some ways, his arcane knowledge is vast and his mind keen. I am sure he did not suffer from a lack of caution, either. So the most interesting part will be to find out what exactly threw off the balance. As I said, a lot of magical energy is necessary to conduct a ritual of such magnitude. This power is needed to set a current, in a manner of speaking, guiding the exchange and shaping it into the result desired. There are different ways of achieving exchanges. These might depend on the participants. For example, sacrifice of a unicorn, which makes for a particularly pure entity, would require a lot of specific preparation. The arithmantic equations governing rituals would have to be solved in a way accounting for the immense resistance of such a pure being to being tainted or, not even to be considered, killed."

"The question is: What could have affected the ritual in such a way as to offset the balance of all the prepared participants so you, as I see it, became the receptacle, the nundu stayed the source and Voldemort became, so I strongly suspect, the sacrifice, fuelling the ritual. This would be consistent with his followers, doubtlessly asked to magically assist him, suffering from a drain of magical energy. As they were on his side and that side became the sacrifice, they might have been caught in the current, so to speak."

They had debated for some minutes, not getting a satisfying idea on how the ritual's balance might have been changed. As Enzo was about to growl in frustration, Snape had inhaled sharply, as if being hit with realisation. "Now, whatever is it, Severus?" Dumbledore had asked. Snape had looked at Enzo warily. "Mr. Velluto" he had asked, stiffly, "Have…Have you ever been with a woman?" McGonagall raised her eyebrows and said, somewhat dismissively "Now, come on, who at that age would…" She stopped at Snape's baleful glare, underlined with a low feline hiss.

* * *

 **A/N:** That will be that. A simple oversight turns things on their head and lives are changed forever.

Thank you very much for reading, I do hope you enjoyed yourselves. It was always planned to be a short story (being my very first attempt at literary writing), although it became longer than I anticipated. I now understand what authors mean by stories taking on a life of their own. Take care and, if you feel generous, leave a much-appreciated review.


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